Noble Intentions
by TheNinthCircleofHell
Summary: Darkfic. An eight-year-old bloodstained Alex has just stumbled into Imil, despair-ridden and with one thought instilled within his young mind - The Golden Sun.
1. Golden Sun

After writing the beginning of a shipping fic, and a pair of crack fics the little sadist in my head hasn't stopped bugging me due to it's malnourishment. So I came up with this.

I may have to push the rating up a notch in a few chapters. You guys will just have to tell me if it's too high. I really have no idea how disturbed something has to be to become an M. I guess we'll just wait and see how it turns out.

Chibi Sadist: Now read the goddamn story before I fork your eyes out and pour boiling water into the bleeding sockets!

NinthCircle: ............... ignore him, he just wants attention.

Disclaimer: Camelot owns Golden sun, etc, etc, etc.

* * *

Noble Intentions

Chapter 1- Golden Sun

_He witnessed the streams of light shining over the summit._

"_The Golden Sun...... It's beginning......"_

_He could feel desperation clawing at his throat._

Alex stared. The gaping hollow in the ground where Mount Aleph had been moments before seemed to pull at him, calling him. It was as if he had shared a bond with the temple that could have easily been his grave. Sol Sanctum, the shrine that the Wise One had so uncaringly sacrificed to seal him and the power of the Golden Sun away.

_The shaft of light struck the mountaintop. He could feel the power flowing through his body. Unimaginable, mind-numbing power. Power he had desired for his entire existence. At long last, he could finally pull his tortured life back together._

_Pure ecstasy encompassed his mind. He could not believe it, it all seemed so surreal. The landscape surrounding the mountaintop appeared to warp, change colour. Flashes of light flew before his eyes. An incessant humming filled his ears. His body started shaking. Dizziness wrapped itself around his mind. It was all too much for him. He threw back his head, and laughed._

He shuddered, memories of his painful struggle off the disintegrating mountain returning to him. The rock beneath his feet giving way while attempting to drag himself off the numerous edges of Mount Aleph. The tremors that shook through the mountain, battering his broken body. The many boulders that flew past him, several striking him on his arms, legs and back. He remembered feeling his own broken bones puncture skin over his body, and his blood painting the ground underneath him.

The Wise One had been planning for this. It had known all along. The link between his newfound powers and Sol Sanctum was strong. All psynergic methods of healing or escape were beyond him. The temple itself was pulling at him, tethering him from his freedom. However, it didn't stop him. Nothing would stop him ever again. Least of all this mountain.

He crawled onwards as the mountain fell apart around him. Through all the chaos that reigned around him, towards the exit of this nightmarish labyrinth.

_He surveyed the town underneath him. It seemed so small and vulnerable from where he was standing. Pathetic, even._

_A malicious feeling spread across his chest, taking hold of his mind. An almost alien-like hatred echoed throughout his body. He knew he should have felt surprised, horrified even, but it somehow felt natural. It was as if he had felt this way his entire life. He grinned as thoughts of domination and power embraced his consciousness. He raised his arms into the air, preparing himself for a taste of his newfound power._

"_Storms, Rise!" he commanded. "Unleash yourselves upon Vale! This world shall know of my existence!"_

_Nothing happened._

"_What...? I should be-"_

_He felt a prickling sensation running his neck._

"_Alex..... so in the end you really were just another power-hungry monster. It's a shame, but I'm going to have to end you."_

_He whipped around. There, floating ominously in front of him, was the Wise One. It's eye seemed to pierce Alex's mind, making him feel exposed, helpless._

_And angry._

_How dare it try to stop him? It had no idea of what he had gone through! It couldn't even begin to conceive his suffering!_

_A growl rose from his throat. Fury shook his body. His eyes narrowed, he raised a hand towards the Wise One and began sending pulse after pulse of pure psynergy. He watched as it was forced backwards, and began feeling laughter build up in his throat._

_And the whole time he could feel himself slip towards the brink of insanity._

"_What? Not even the great protector of Vale can match me now? Ha! Look, you can't even-"_

_A sudden surge of psynergy encircled him, lifting him into the air. His eyes widened in surprise but there was no time to do anything else. He was slammed onto the hard, unforgiving mountaintop. He felt the crack of bones across his chest. He coughed violently, bringing the taste of blood into his mouth._

"_Alex.... you are not all powerful. I, during the formation of the Golden Sun imbued a portion of it into the Mars Star. With its release upon the Mars Lighthouse, a section of the power you sought was directed into young Isaac."_

_Alex quietened as the realisation struck him. He had never obtained the full power? Then what about him? What about his eternal life? What about his limitless power? What about..... everybody he had promised?_

_That final thought shook him to the core. How.... how could he possibly have forgotten? He felt the malice drain from his heart, leaving behind the sickening feeling of guilt. He had sworn that he-_

"_Farewell Alex. If you manage to survive this, I truly hope that you will repent your sins. If you do, I may chose not to make another attempt upon your life, despite the obvious threat you pose to Weyard. Realize yourself, and you may even become a blessing to this land."_

_Alex watched the Wise One leave. He couldn't die here. There was still so much he had to do. He had to escape this mountain._

_The strange malice he had felt moments before had already been forgotten._

He could not stay here for long. The Wise One would undoubtedly make a reappearance soon enough. He didn't trust it. He had no idea of what it really wanted. He tore his eyes away from the ruins and gazed towards the moon-lit remains of Vale.

Vale. The once beautiful, peaceful village had undergone a brutal transformation. Giant gashes stretched through the town. Houses, bridges, everything had been torn apart. And it had all been a direct result of his desires. He had come here for the Golden Sun, but he hadn't even obtained that. He felt as if the village had been sacrificed for nothing. As far back as he could remember, the Golden Sun had always been his goal. The hope it gave him had always reassured him. The hope of rebuilding something that was thought to be unrepairable.

"Don't worry," he whispered to himself. "I'll bring us all together again. No matter what."

He had to find Issac, persuade him. He had known what it was like to have a family pulled apart. He would understand him. There was no way he couldn't.

First, however, he needed a place to rest. Before the Wise One returned he would need to escape, otherwise his desperate scramble for survival would have been for nothing. Summoning the last of his strength, he focused his psynergy together and warped away.

* * *

The innkeeper of Vault was staring out a window, lazily surveying the dark outline of houses. Very few people arrived at the inn this late at night but there was little else to do anyway. He stretched back, yawning.

Suddenly, a bright light shone out from beside the well, highlighting the room in a sickly blue colour. The innkeeper jumped in surprise and squinted out the window towards the source of the light. A moment later it dimmed, leaving behind the body of a bleeding, ragged man.

He sat there stunned. The man took a few small steps forward, then groaned in weakly in agony and collapsed. The innkeeper's eyes widened in shock. He ran forward, throwing open the door and rushed towards the heavily bleeding man, desperately calling out for help.

* * *

Yeah, I've done the whole 'not sticking to the game script word-for-word but essentially the same things do end up happening anyway' thing again. I dunno though..... when I do that, I end up feeling disconnected from the actual story (being un-canon, is that the right word?), but using the actual game script just feels uncreative. Ah well.

REVIEWZ!! I live off them! Talk about how much you hated/liked the fic, what you think's going to happen, my inappropriate use of the letter Z, anything!


	2. Origin

I understand I'm an awful person, and how long it's been since I've updated this. Sorry about that! I'll be better next time!

Disclaimer: Camelot owns Golden Sun, and I don't even own the bed I sleep on.

* * *

Chapter 2 – Origin

Snowflakes drifted slowly down, painting the landscape sinlessly white. A baby boy reached through the bars of his crib and brushed his fingers lightly against the chilly window, eyes wide with wonder.

_So many..._

He felt his inquisitive mind expand, the sense of discovery engulfing all other needs and emotion. His consciousness reached out, exploring infinite complexities of each snowflake. Each a great crystal lattice, every one unique. A magical, euphoric feeling flooded his being.

He slowly raised his fragile little hands towards the sky, as ever more snow descended. The feeling of connection was overwhelming, he felt as if he could even...

"Allllex!"

A pair of arms playfully scooped him up and lifted him bodily into the air, instantly severing the connection. Alex gasped in shock and, impulsively, began to cry.

"Aww baby, what's wrong?"

He felt himself being pulled inwards as his mother began cradling him gently. She ran her fingers through his short hair and cooed softly in his ear. He calmed down as the familiar, loving sounds echoed throughout his mind, caressing his fragile being. The tears subsided and he began to happily curl up in her arms.

Contentedly, he turned his head to look up at his mother.

Claire had a sweet-natured face that outlined a large pair of sparkling aquamarine eyes. Long blue hair cascaded past her shoulders down a lithe, slender body. A happy, childish expression danced across her features. It was the face he loved.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. She gently placed Alex back in his crib and curiously glanced through the window. She smiled.

"Your daddy's home, Alex!"

She happily bounced over to the door and pulled it open. A gust of blisteringly cold air rushed in as a tall figure strode into the room.

Stefan, contrasting to his wife's features was a sturdy, rough-looking man. Broad-shouldered and tall, his father's overall appearance had a tough, intimidating look, probably brought on by life on the ice plains. However, despite his coarse appearance, he had a gentle face.

He walked over to the crib and ruffled Alex's hair. Alex gurgled happily. "How's the little guy going?"

Claire smiled warmly.

"He's doing just fine."

...

_(He was born,)_

...

Alex's childhood home was a lone cottage sitting in the barren, northern ice lands of Weyard. However, he could not recall a single time that he had ever felt lonely.

There was his own private little room, filled with toys and whatever his imagination created out of them. There was the room his parents slept in, the place he would escape to while taking refuge from his nightmares.

There was the kitchen, filled with all of its curiosity-stimulating utensils. It was also where the delicious-smelling meals were cooked with loving care by his mother.

There was the living room, the room where they would all enjoy their meals together. He also would often find his dad there, lazing back on one of the padded chairs scattered about the room.

And they were all always kept warm by the ever-burning fireplace, lying in the forever-beating heart of the house.

He loved it all. He wanted to live there, forever, existing in his own innocent little world.

...

_(bathed in blood.)_

...

A kitchen knife sat on the counter, its wooden handle hanging precariously off the edge. Alex stared at it, large eyes aglow with curiosity. He jumped up, trying to grab at the object that mystified him so greatly. He had to know what it was!

He pounded the counter with tiny fists, to little effect. Desperately, he gazed around the room, and spied a long wooden mop in the corner. He happily toddled over and pulled it over to the counter. He moved underneath the handle and sharply prodded it with the mop.

It briefly flew up, and then descended, the knife silently cart-wheeling in the midair towards his bright, smiling face.

"ALEX!" screamed Claire.

There was a rapid movement to his right, and he was thrown out of the way in a whirl of long, blue hair. His eyes followed the knife as it whipped past his cheek. A moment later, he felt the bite as the silver blade sunk into his left hand.

His world exploded in a stream of colours as pain shot up his arm. He screamed wildly, jerking his hand away. The knife flew out and clattered against the stone floor. Warm blood flowed freely, streaming down his fingers. He heard yelling in the background.

Through the veil of pain, he felt a hand latch onto his own and pull it up. There was a brilliant flash of blue light and suddenly, blissfully, the agony ceased. Out of blurry eyes, he stared at his hand in amazement. What had been a gaping wound had been reduced to a thin scar running from knuckle to wrist.

_What was...?_

His thoughts were cut short as a woman threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

"What were you thinking!? You could have been killed!" Claire cried, anguish echoing throughout her words.

She held him to herself tighter, a few stray tears running across her face. "Never do that again, Alex! Never! I don't know what we'd do if..."

Alex gazed up at her face, not comprehending all the words, but understanding his mother's torment-filled tone. Guilt at causing Claire to suffer filled his mind. He raised his tiny arms and hugged her back as tightly as he could.

...

_(The world embraced him,)_

...

Lightning tore across the sky, showering the shadow-filled living room in a sudden flash of light. A few moments later, the rolling echo of thunder shook the house. Alex cringed and hid his face in the folds of Claire's long dress.

"Psh! A son of mine, afraid of a bit of thunder?" Stefan remarked.

Claire smiled fondly at him. "Don't make fun of him; I'm sure you were just as frightened of storms when you were young."

Stefan folded his arms arrogantly and grinned. "Not me! I was the most fearless boy in Imil! I took down a wild bear at the age of seven!"

"If I remember correctly, your 'bear' was actually a very surprised uncle of yours who you assaulted at the door."

Stefan winced. "Well, he shouldn't have always worn that massive fur coat. The thing was far too life-like if you ask me."

"Still doesn't change the fact you smashed uncle Robert in the face with a wooden post."

"Eh. He forgave me. Eventually."

Another bolt of lightning struck the horizon. The cottage shook as thunder rumbled. Alex shivered in fear and withdrew deeper into the comfort of his mother's dress.

"Aw, it's okay baby," cooed Claire, running a hand through Alex's hair. He quietened down under his mother's affectionate touch.

"If you pamper him too much, he'll never grow up," complained Stefan.

"And what's wrong with that?" pouted Claire. "He can be my precious baby forever."

"Bah, you women," grunted Stefan. "Still... Imil really had it's moments."

"Yeah..." Claire murmured, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Do you still sometimes miss it?"

"I guess..."

Alex suddenly gurgled happily.

Stefan grinned. "But I have you two now, and it's not like we can't visit if we want."

Claire smiled back at him. "You're right... all we need is right here."

...

_(and protected him.)_

...

A pair of cool hands pressed lightly on Alex's burning forehead. He sneezed again, his raw throat itching horribly.

Claire raised her hands. "You're burning up," she murmured, concern lacing her voice.

"What's happening, momma?" asked Alex fearfully.

Claire looked down at him and appraised him carefully. "This is called a cold, Alex. I'm... surprised you haven't had one yet, especially considering where we live. You're a surprisingly healthy boy."

"A cold?" Alex asked. "What's that? What's going to happen to me?"

"Well... a cold is a small sickness that feels unpleasant for a while as your body fights it. It should be nothing serious. You'll be fine, Alex."

Alex looked at her, confused. "My body fights it? What happens if it loses?"

Claire smiled lovingly at Alex. "You don't have to worry about that. You're young. Only older people have to worry about losing to sicknesses."

"Old people like dad?" asked Alex curiously.

Claire hesitated, and then grinned impishly. "Yup, only oldies like your dad. Don't tell him I said that though."

"Okay," smiled Alex. Then he coughed violently.

"Oh!" Claire exclaimed, concerned. "I'll fetch you a cup of water, okay?"

Alex nodded slightly. Claire stroked his cheek softly, smiled gently and left the room.

...

_(But by his curse,)_

...

"Happy birthday, darling!"

An ecstatic Claire bounced into Alex's room, happily waving around an oversized chocolate cake. Following her was a not-so-ecstatic, tired-looking Stefan.

Alex groggily pulled himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"You better enjoy it, kid," grunted Stefan. "Your mother forced me to walk all the way to Imil to fetch the ingredients for the damn thing."

Claire playfully punched him on the arm. "It's your son's birthday and all you can think about a mere four hour hike? Don't you eat those kinds of thing for breakfast, honey?"

"Slave driver..." Stefan muttered.

"Birthday, Stefan!" reminded Claire. "It's your son's birthday!"

Stefan sighed heavily and began to smile as well. "Well, happy birthday Alex. We'll open your presents after breakfast, 'kay?"

The idea that it was his birthday finally struck home. Alex's eyes widened as sleep escaped them.

_It's... my birthday!?_

Instantly energised, he leaped clean out of bed.

"What did you guys get me this time? Why can't we open them all now?"

Stefan looked over at Claire and smiled. "It's always about the presents, ain't it?"

Alex ran excitedly out of the room.

"Hey!" shouted Stefan after him. "You better not go opening any of those presents! Your mother and I put a lot of effort into those for you!"

"Oh, just let him Stefan. They're for him anyway after all," murmured Claire, wrapping her arms around him.

"You really spoil him, you know that?" complained Stefan, taking the cake.

"Yup!" grinned Claire cheerfully.

Stefan sighed heavily.

He and Claire walked into the living room, sat down and began watching Alex tear open Stefan's present.

"Cool!" exclaimed Alex, holding up a strange, circular object. "What is it?"

"It's a compass, Alex," explained Stefan. "The Mercury Clan used those to help them find their way around when they sailed the seas."

"Wow...

Alex turned it around, eyes curiously trained on the point in the compass.

"Open my present, Alex!" exclaimed Claire suddenly. "It's heaps better than that piece of junk!"

"Okay!" said Alex happily as Stefan glared angrily at Claire.

"Woah!" exclaimed Alex. He held up a pendant. Embedded in the centre was a deep blue sapphire. "It's so pretty!"

"How did you get the money for something like that!?" shouted Stefan as Claire placed it around Alex's neck.

Claire shrugged. "It belonged to my father."

"Wow! Thanks mum!" smiled Alex happily, fiddling with the pendant.

"I win," whispered Claire into Stefan's ear, grinning.

He looked at her, exasperated. "This wasn't a competition, you know."

...

_(Seeds of Revelation,)_

...

"Claire, I think it's about time we taught the kid how to properly use the gifts of the Mercury Clan."

"Is it really necessary, Stefan? He's still so young," Clare remarked.

"It better that way," Stefan explained. "If we teach him now, there won't be any accidents in the future if accidentally discovers the gift on his own."

"Well... I guess teaching him how to use Ply would come in handy..."

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of learning how to... eh... cut wood and stuff."

Claire frowned. "You lazy bastard, this was all just about you wanting extra help in the first place, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess," muttered Stefan. "Still! It's a cold and brutal world out there! You can never know what's just around the corner! I could lose my leg in a fight with one of the local animals; anything could happen!"

"Fine," sighed Claire, exasperated. "Go ahead. Teach him what you want."

Stefan grinned. "Thanks! I'll go fetch him."

"What!? Right now?" asked Claire.

"Why not? Is there any better time to?"

Claire sighed. "... whatever, just go."

Stefan smiled and gave her a quick kiss. "See you for dinner!"

...

_(the Impure Truth,)_

...

"Hey, Alex! Think fast!"

Alex turned around just as he got a face full of snow. Spluttering, he wiped his face clean as another pounded him in the chest. He fell, landing backwards in a pile of freezing snow.

He sat up, confused. Then he noticed his father pointing at him, laughing.

"If only you could have your face!" he grinned.

Growling, Alex picked up a handful of snow and pelted it straight at Stefan. However, just as it was about to hit, the snowball lost momentum and landed in a pile at Stefan's feet. He began to laugh louder.

"Hey! That's cheating!"

"It is not! You're just a pathetic snowball thrower!"

Alex growled.

_We'll see about that!_

He launched himself at Stefan. Stefan grinned, sidestepping his furious son. Alex landed face-first in a mound of snow at Stefan's feet. Alex whipped around and directed five snowballs at once up at his father using only force of mind.

Unfortunately, he felt himself lose control as the snowballs were snatched out of his psynergetic grasp and were redirected against himself. They all struck him one by one in the chest.

"You're years behind me, Alex!" boasted Stefan. "Give it up!"

Alex gazed angrily at him.

_I'm not done yet!_

Alex glared at the snow under his father's heavy shoes and shifted it violently forward. Stefan's eyes widened as he fell backwards into the snow.

"Woah!"

Alex didn't miss a beat, began taking handfuls of snow and started dumping them all over his father. Stefan tried pulling himself up but Alex sat on his chest and began shovelling as much snow onto his father as humanly possible.

"Okay, okay!" spluttered Stefan. "I surrender!"

Alex grinned and got off just as Claire walked up to the pair of them.

"What's this? I come out and expect to see my two boys hard at work and end up find them playing in the snow?" asked Claire.

"Mum! Mum! I beat dad! In a snowball fight! I beat him so badly!" shouted Alex excitedly.

Claire grinned and looked over at Stefan.

"Stefan, is this true?" she asked mockingly.

He grunted.

"Okay!" Claire declared. "I propose a celebration! We'll all go back home and I'll cook my special pastries!

"Yeah!" exclaimed Alex happily, running back to the cottage.

Stefan groaned. "Our supply is running low... this means another trip to Imil soon, doesn't it?"

"Ah well," smiled Claire, proffering a hand out to help Stefan up. "He really does seem genuinely happy about finally beating you.... what happened anyway? Don't tell me you're losing it to a seven-year-old boy now."

"He cheated," growled Stefan, pulling himself up.

"Suuuuuure he did, just like you've _haven't_ all this time," Claire grinned, absently wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Either way... I'm proud of him," remarked Stefan, idly running his fingers through her long, silky hair.

"What a fatherly thing to say."

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "What would be the motherly thing to say?"

"I don't know..." said Claire thoughtfully. "How about something simple, like 'I'm happy for him'?"

"That works just fine," smiled Stefan, leaning down.

They shared a deep kiss.

...

_(shall shred Reality.)_

...

_What...?_

Alex found himself standing alone in an innocent-white clearing. Thin shafts of sunlight reached through the surrounding snow coated trees, bathing the field in a warm, welcoming light.

"Alex," whispered a voice gently in his ears.

He looked up. In the centre of the clearing stood a lone figure, her face hidden in shadow. He took a step back, surprised.

_When did she...?_

The figure turned to face him, throwing her face in sunlight.

_Mother?_

His mother smiled at him kindly and slowly raised her hand, motioning at him to approach her.

"Alex," she whispered again. Her voice felt strangely disjointed to Alex but he dismissed it and began walking towards her, drawn in by her familiar, serene face. However, as he stepped forward, he began to notice that his surroundings were changing. The sky overhead darkened and the clearing itself shifted, as if it were underwater. The trees lent inwards, seemingly cutting off the outside world. Incomprehensible, relentless whisperings began filling his ears. He stopped and looked around, eyes widening in fear. He gazed at the trees and saw thick droplets of blood running down and off the dark branches. Where the droplets struck the white ground, they left black-red stains which slowly began to _grow._ They spread, soon engulfing all of the snow, including under Alex's very feet.

_What is this!? Where am I!?_

Suddenly he felt a sudden prickling feeling down his neck. He whipped around and found himself face-to-face with his mother, and screamed. The flesh was falling off her once beautiful face, revealing the sickeningly white bone underneath. Her mouth was open, blood gushing out of it, soaking Alex's clothes. She painfully pulled her hand up to Alex's shoulder and held on tightly, bruised flesh and skin continuing to slide off her bones.

"I'm sorry."

The same disjointed voice rang in Alex's ears. Then she collapsed heavily on top of him. Trapped under the weight of her body, her mutilated face a few inches from his, he screamed again, tears now streaming from his eyes as he desperately attempted pulling himself away.

And then he woke up.

* * *

I'll try getting the next chapter out ASAP. This fic has been sort of addictive for me to write actually. 'Tis a nice change from the whole _"I'll write more when I feel like it later" _mood.

NinthCircle: So, how was that? I put that last bit in for you.

Chibi Sadist: .... it was weak.

NinthCircle: Huh!? What's wrong with you?

Chibi Sadist: I was expecting so much more from you.... *sigh*

NinthCircle: Whatever, you're broken inside anyway. Read and Review people!


	3. Cycle of Gods

The woman standing in front of him shrieked in agony as he tore her apart limb by limb. Blood gushed out, drenching his clothes in dark red and wastefully began pooling onto the dirty gravel road underneath his feet. His swirling, purple eyes fixated onto her dulling blue ones and narrowed hatefully. Forcefully, he lifted her up using only sheer force of will and watched until all the life had drained out of her helpless body and the pair of twins she carried.

_Thanks for nothing, mother._

Not a whisper escaped his mouth, but the shocked, surrounding witnesses heard the malicious words echo clearly in their minds. The boy threw the limbless corpse down on the road and spat on it. Slowly, he raised his head and turned his gaze onto the surrounding villagers. His eyes locked onto the closest, the grey-haired, elderly man. A grin, repulsive and depraved, spread across the twelve-year-old's bloodstained face.

The villager took a few shaky steps backwards but tripped, clumsily falling on his backside. Eyes widening in fear, he began desperately scrambling backwards. The remaining villagers were frozen in place, watching on in horror.

"M-m-monster!" the old man declared, pointing a trembling finger towards the boy whose grin only grew wider. He took a few steps forward and the same malicious voice echoed throughout their minds.

_The feeling is mutual. You all sicken me just as much. Perhaps even more._

The wind picked up, throwing the boy's long, blonde hair across his spiteful features. The landscape darkened as dark grey, nearly black, clouds spread across the sky. Relishing the fearful expression on the man's face, a face realising he had only moments left to live, the boy raised his hand and made a strange, flowing motion in the air. A thin, compressed line of air formed upon finishing and, at whiplash speed, tore towards the villager, cutting cleanly through his chest. The old man's mouth opened to scream but found he didn't have the air. The blade of air had travelled straight through his ribcage and lungs. The upper section of the body slid sickeningly off and a fountain of blood sprayed into the air. The boy threw back his head and laughed wildly. The degenerate, cruel sound danced through the air, unnaturally loud and clear despite the strengthening winds.

Horrified screams broke out and the villagers began to run for their lives. The boy ceased laughing, but the maniacal, savage grin remained. Another blade of wind whipped through the crowd, slicing clean through the calves of the villager at the head of the group.

_You will stay where you are!_

The majority of the fleeing mob stopped in their tracks and the boy began picked off the remaining villagers that continued to run. It took only moments. When he finally had all the villagers attention, the boy lowered his arms and calmly began striding towards the group. His eyes gleamed sadistically as he sinfully thought of the torment he had planned for them.

_Now why don't we all have some fun?

* * *

_

_For a child to conceive such Pandemonium at a tender age..._

_As clear as the winds of Weyard, he must be..._

_One of the candidates..._

Heavenly entities whispered to each other, emotionlessly witnessing from the ether as the boy continued his rampage.

_The empty throne of Catastrophe..._

The villagers, one by one, were silenced as the boy felled them in increasingly more creative ways. Soon enough, there was nobody left alive on that dark, blood-drenched field.

_Iris, do you believe he could be the One?_

Gazing down from the heavens, Iris watched as the violet-eyed boy, with a brilliant flash of psynergy, unzipped his mother's stomach. He bend over her lifeless corpse and began silently, sickeningly, drinking the blood of his unborn sisters.

_It is clear. He will transcend mortality._


	4. Road to Heaven

If you want a sense of time here, I'll say Alex is eight years old. Mia 'round this time about six. During the Golden Sun games, Mia is seventeen. Work it out.

As always, I don't own Golden Sun.

* * *

Chapter 4 - Road to Heaven

_This world was never created with the intention of being 'fair'. The concept of fairness in reality is impossible, meaningless. It is merely wishful thinking, a creation of delusional human perspective._

_Weep, children. The absolute nature, the infinite truth, is a jewel only a selected few may grasp. It is a realisation reserved only for those who abandon mortality, and become Gods._

_These people are called the Candidates._

Evening silently descended over the peaceful landscape. The moon climbed into the sky, joining the emerging forest of stars. Mournfully, it gazed downwards at the lonely cottage situated on the icy plains. Tonight, it would have to yet again witness the cruel process that fuelled immortality. Tonight, Alex's world would be twisted beyond recognition. He would begin to lose himself.

Stefan was idling playing around with Alex, holding one of his little wooden animals just out of Alex's reach.

"Oh, stop teasing him, Stefan," scolded Claire.

There was a loud knocking at the door. Alex turned his gaze to the wooden door, curious; they rarely ever got visitors.

"Here you go, kiddo," remarked Stefan, handing back the toy back to Alex and striding over to the door. "Maybe it's just a traveller asking for directions or something."

He grasped the handle of the door and slid it open. His eyes widened in surprise. Before he could make any other kind of reaction, a sword was thrust though the entrance and dove mercilessly into his unprotected throat.

_What...?_

Alex stared at the scene, paralysed. The world itself seemed to slow down. More than that, reality itself faded into a smothering, unreal haze. Alex could only watch as Stefan's eyes gradually lost their shine and dulled, becoming soulless orbs. Behind the door, the unseen wielder of the sword lifted his foot and sent it flying into Stefan's stomach. The force threw his father's now-lifeless body clean off the sword. Blood sprayed out of his gaping wound, staining the clean carpet underfoot dark red.

"D-dad...?" began Alex, unable to comprehend, unable to grasp what was occurring. What his eyes were witnessing were lies. They just _had_ to be.

An ear-piercing shriek tore across the room. Claire, eyes wide with horror, gazed upon the sight with disbelief. She took a few instinctual steps towards her beloved husband, holding out her trembling hands before the door was violently slammed open. Three tall, _faceless_ figures entered. Where there was meant to be eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears, there was nothing, only smooth, sickening, lumpy flesh.

Claire stopped advancing, took one fear-filled look at the not-quite-human creatures and shrieked, backing away. A terrified expression warped her face. The figure closest to Alex, Stefan's murderer, turned and faced Claire. Slowly and deliberately, it started striding forwards. It kicked Stefan's crumpled body out the way.

"No..." she muttered pitifully, tears creeping out of the corners of her eyes. "Why now...?"

Alex could only stare frozen at the pathetic, lifeless body of what used to be his sturdy and reliable father.

"Restrain the master," the murderer ordered the other two, pointing a claw-like finger towards Alex. It used a commanding tone; it owned the voice of one who held definite authority. However, what truly scared Alex was that the voice itself seemed to be detached from the owner, echoing from all directions around the room.

The other figures nodded silently. The entire room flashed black and Alex felt multiple cold, clammy hands grab and drive him into the wall behind him at a horrifying speed. A moment later, the room was visible again.

Alex glanced around him, terrified to tears. The two figures held him tightly by each hand against the wall at shoulder height. Completely overwhelmed, Alex's mind fled down the only path it could take to protect itself: denying reality. He scrunched his eyes closed and tore them away from the brutal scene in front of him.

He began thinking fervently.

_Dad isn't dead. He can't be._

_Dad isn't lying against the wall there. He's right next to me. I can hear him talking to me right now._

_There was never a knock at the door. We never get visitors._

_This is a normal night, a normal night. Dad's playing with me. Mum's cooking something tasty in the kitchen. It smells good, so good..._

"Force open his eyes. This is something he shall witness."

The same cold hands pinched his eyelids and pulled them open. Alex started screaming, the pain and light pulling him back from his imaginary little world.

As his eyes gradually focused, they beheld his father's murderer raising the wicked-looking blade in its left hand, still coated with Stefan's blood, and pointing it towards Claire.

"Hear this, witch," it pronounced. "Your time of Judgement has arisen. You are already a dead woman. Seal this contract of ours and bestow upon us your final consent. Your refusal will only deny you access to the afterlife."

The fear that dwelled in Claire's eyes never dulled, but she furiously shook her head, tears now streaming from her eyes. "No! You'll nev-"

The faceless figure wasted no time, whipping around and driving a boot into her chest. There was a terrible cracking noise at one of her ribcages splintered. Claire screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor before being dragged up again by her long, blue hair.

"Surrendering your consent will only reduce your suffering. What is holding you back?"

Claire could only make a weak groan, but in response continued to shake her head from side to side.

A growl echoed around the room, the first genuine sign of emotion from the faceless murderer. It smashed Claire's face against the ground before violently striking her again and again, breaking her body to the point where she could barely even scream.

Alex stared at the nightmare before him, cold, clammy fingers still forcing his eyelids open. It was all happening far too quickly for him. He could merely watch, transfixed, as horror after horror was agonisingly etched into his perfect, innocent world.

Finally after what felt like an age, the figure ceased striking down his mother.

"Idiot woman," it muttered hatefully. "It appears we have to resort the final option... how troublesome. Come... we're leaving."

The faceless creature began leaving the house, followed by its two lackeys. Alex's legs gave way underneath him as soon as they released him, his body unable to hold itself up, shaking uncontrollably. He fell to the floor, his head facing his dying mother, blood pooling beneath her. Their eyes locked onto each other's.

Claire opened her mouth, obviously trying to talk to her son but being completely unable. Her arm moved slightly towards him, supposedly to try and touch him but was also unable. Alex gazed in anguish at his mother's broken body, feeling another scream rising up in his throat. Her limbs were twisted at odd angles and it looked as if her ribcage had been crushed. Alex tasted bile in his mouth.

And then her eyes completely lost their light, becoming completely vacant. The emotionless aquamarine orbs that used to look onto him with such love, such affection were now completely empty.

Alex threw his eight-year-old head skywards, and screamed.

_For the first possible time in the history of Weyard, the Cycle of Gods may be broken. The decline of psynergy, the weakening of the world; it all links back to the Great Sealing of Alchemy._

_If the Gods were to fade away, it is said Weyard and its people would with it. However, the journey to immortality is always filled with pain, fear and regret._

Alex heard the door swing shut with a loud slamming noise as the _demons _left his empty home. He stared at the closed doorway, completely frozen as his mind gradually finished processing what had just happened.

Eventually, one thought finally surfaced: _They killed my family._

Indescribable, burning, white-hot rage filled his being. Nothing he had ever felt before in his life had he ever felt more real. Pure, spiteful fury flowed through his veins like fire. Alex felt himself melding into the emotion, all reason, morality and sanity completely vanishing. _They were going to pay for everything._

_

* * *

_There was an amazing, ethereal sound that cut through the air, the sound of ice scrapping against ice, and then the cottage was ripped apart. The three faceless figures whipped around just as three giant spears of lightning-fast ice were stabbed with deadly, unholy accuracy into each one of their hearts.

"_DIE!"_ echoed Alex's voice over the quiet, frozen plains.

As the leader of the faceless trio crumbled to the floor, a single feature split across its face: a smile.


	5. Purpose

Against popular opinion, I actually do enjoy reviews. Speak up and involve yourselves, alright, kind readers? I am an FF author and like most FF authors, I am rather attention-seeking.

And now I'm finally launching into an explaining chapter after all these mindless bloodbaths. Hopefully, this'll answer some queries and allow further assumptions to be drawn.

On a different note, I feel really, really formal for some reason :D

* * *

Chapter 5 - Purpose

Alex ran. Blindly, mindlessly running through the snow. The thought of stopping never occurred to him. Pushed onwards by pure desperation, he simply ran. It is impossible, however, to just run from a nightmare.

The bloodied face of his father flashed through his tortured mind, eyes gazing at him with such intensity, yet none at all.

"No!" Alex screamed, tears flowing from his pale blue eyes. He continued running, his body at its limits. The next image was of his mother, her broken, pathetic form lying across the floor of his home. Reaching out for him, trying to hold him one last time...

"No!" Alex tried to continue running but found himself lying face down in the snow, his body utterly exhausted but unable to relay the message to his agonised mind. He had already tripped and fallen, but had not realised it at all.

"No..." he whispered silently, warm, wet tears sliding down his deathly cold face and into the frozen lattice of snow beneath him. Endlessly, relentlessly, the scene replayed itself over and over through his mind, a cruel, sadistic play he was unwillingly forced to watch. Again, a torrent of blood gushed from his father's throat. Again, the screams of his mother echoed in his ears.

A surreal twixt of denial and despair coursed through him. Emotionally shielding himself, denial reigned. However, rationally this was the undeniable reality and that gave birth to the despair that tore at him, seeking to pull him back to the truth.

Pitifully, he lay there sobbing, his misery echoing over the moonlit ice plains unnoticed.

Another wave of the luxurious denial again washed over him. He would wake up and Claire would be there for him, gently caressing him and asking him what was wrong in her gentle, affectionate voice.

A swirl of blisteringly cold wind struck him and he discovered himself again in reality. This was not a dream.

A deep, absolute surge of despair surrounded him again. Uncontrollably, he began shaking wildly. Panic rose in his throat, he was unable to breathe, choking, trying to scream...

_... And all his emotions were washed away. Absolute simplicity. The childish feeling labelled despair by mortals' pales in comparison to what the immortal feels. As do all their other meaningless, superficial feelings._

An alien power enveloped Alex's mind, shielding him from the agony, and instinctually Alex felt himself take refuge in this new presence.

_Alex..._

He heard his name. He felt as if it had been called out from distance but it clearly audible, as if the speaker were whispering in his ear. He took note but otherwise felt no desire to question it. Rapidly, he was converged under the influence of this new presence to the point that should have been alarming, but strangely he felt disconnected and calm.

"Who... are you?"

_A great many titles are used to illustrate myself, but presently your knowledge of my identity is irrelevant. Alex, the bond you shared with your parents was truly a sacred one and the loss you feel is understandable. However, I am here to tell you not to surrender; it is possible to revive them._

Pure astonishment and hope rushed through Alex. Unaware to him was these were not his natural emotions; they were fake and artificial.

"What... how!?"

_In this world, there is a phenomenon known as the Golden Sun. If one were to bathe in its holy light, that being would obtain an absolute control over the power of Alchemy in its entirety. Under the unity of a single soul, the four elements hold the power to warp and recreate the very laws of nature life stands upon. Granting second life to individuals would be simple._

Although the majority of the explanation passed by Alex's undeveloped, young mind he understood the major point; his parents could live again! Hope flared in his heart and this time, it was natural.

"What do I have to do?"

_For now, you must survive. When the time comes, I'll direct you. For now, live on so that your parents may have that second chance at life._

The voice faded away, leaving behind Alex lying in the snow, feeling unnaturally rejuvenated. Pulling himself up, he glanced back towards his ruined home, mixed emotions swirling deep inside him.

Gathering together his courage, he pulled his gaze away, facing the form of Imil in the distance and whispered to nobody in particular, "I'll come back... promise."

* * *

The sun had begun rising above the horizon.

Over an hour of trekking through the snow later, Alex was tiring rapidly. The calming effect that contact with the unknown presence he given him had worn off and the terrifying memories of the night before were slithering back into the recesses of his mind like the vile snakes they were, tormenting him.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself onwards, forcefully ignoring both mental and physical pain. He held his clothes tightly to his body, thankful of the warm clothing.

Eventually, he wandered through the gates of Imil.

"I've made it," he whispered to himself, his raw throat barely rasping the tones. Then he collapsed.

Losing consciousness, he dimly noticed villagers pointing, shouting, shock painted across their faces. Then the blackness took over.

* * *

It was warm.

Alex shifted to the side slightly, feeling out the cushy mattress underneath him. Slowly, he opened his eyes, gradually adjusting himself to the brightness of the room.

The first thing he noticed was a cherub-faced girl around his age standing over him, looking down.

"You're finally awake!" she exclaimed, leaning down and smiling cheerfully at him.

"Hi! My name's Mia!"


End file.
